Of Maleficent and the perfect spring day
by ThedaTheVamp
Summary: James Bond never thought he would be a family man or have a life outside of the MI6, it's certainly a part of him that he's yet to get used to. However, these few days with his daughter were enough to brighten up his world... At age 50, the 00- life should be a young man's game, but that monumental stubbornness in him kept him from making the ultimate decision. What will he choose?
1. Of Maleficent and the perfect spring day

Springtime was probably the best part of the year. Everything seamed brighter in London, despite the cloudy skies and near-daily showers. The parks bore an ever-bright green, flowers of all types and colors adorned the gardens and even the stern faces of the londoners seamed merrier. School wouldn't return for another two days and so father and daughter decided to go out for a stroll. It was moments like these that made him cherish life, forget all the violence, all the trauma, all the blood he himself spilled and the blows and pains he had suffered to spend two weeks of perfect illusion with his little one.

Olivia was now five years old, she could run, she could climb, she could count to one hundred and last week she had learned how to ride her bicycle without training wheels, and he was proud of the patience and teaching skills he never thought he had. Yesterday had been quite eventful, in the morning he had cooked one of the very few things other than alcohol that he could concuct: apple pie. In the afternoon, after stuffing their faces with their "masterpiece" and vanilla ice cream (his spiked with some cognac) and taking at least two hours to be ready to leave they went to the cinema and watched "Maleficent" in 3D.

He never thought it would be so good, despite Angelina Jolie's seemingly perfect looks. What he had enjoyed most was the comment Olivia made at the end when he inquired on her favorite part of the motion picture.

"You're my Maleficent dad." No _I Love you's _or _you're my hero's,_ just that. A man who raised her mostly from afar, who many times didn't seem so attached, but despite that, her father who loved her unconditionally. In a rare public display of affection he had crouched down and given her the tightest, warmest, the best hug of their lives. The only pain there was the knowledge that in a few days his holidays would be over and he would be forced to report to the new M at MI6. James would be again replaced by 007, the man with a gaping hole for a heart. A man who killed without the blink of an eye, a man with no law, no love, no laughter. A man who didn't have a daughter—a man who was selfishly unafraid to leave her alone in the world. They had offered him a desk job in London... he, too proud hadn't accepted. Mallory, a family man himself had tried to caution him, to no avail. Who was he without his gun, without his cars, the adrenaline, the scheming, the seducing, the adventure? All he knew what to be was an agent, and that is something he planned on doing until his last breath.

But when he was with Olivia... he was so, so different. He was someone else, it was as if some other entity took over his body, mind and soul and he lived and breathed and got up at six in the morning everyday for her. It was nice, for two or three weeks.

Olivia lived in a townhouse in kensignton owned by him. Her mother had died as she was being born, one life for another. She'd had an aneurysm that somehow no one was able to detect priorly, while pushing and pushing for her baby to come out.

He had met Ana on a mission to Portugal, she was there a beautiful fado singer in black, a richly embroidered shawl around her slender, olive-skinned arms as she sung her heart out. In Portugal, when a fado singer opened his or her mouth to sing, everyone went silent, in awe of the pure emotion and artistry. When Ana opened her mouth—people were hypnotized, completely baffled, moved to tears, touched. She smiled, curling her bright red lips, looking straight at him who enjoyed a glass of porto in a corner of the taverna.

He'd been the only one there to stand emotionless... it had intrigued her to the point of confronting him and later that night the Portuguese goddess had made her way into his bed, into his life and allowed him to come into hers. One week later they were married in Coimbra, five months later they were expecting their first child and less than a year after that, he was burying her in a cemetery in Lisbon, their daughter in his arms and Ana's mother clinging to his other arm, head to toe in black. She was a widow, she had lost her only child, her only family... Maria followed them to London and here raised and educated Olivia more than he could say for himself.

As he sat on a wooden bench under the shade of a tree he watched as she charmed her way into the circle of children by the playground and joined in their game. She looked nothing like him—all her mother. Perhaps the only noticeable thing she had inherited from him was the character. In many ways that terrified him.

As the sun began to set and his omega watch displayed 6 o'clock, he called her over and made her put her sandals back on. Her brown curls were all over the place and her big eyes sparkled. Her baby cheeks were red from all the running she had done and she wouldn't stop talking about how the other boy and girl enjoyed "Peppa Pig" and "Charlie & Lola" just as she.

James just nodded along to everything she said, aham here, hmm there... Simply walking towards their car with her tiny hand in his, knowing that soon they would be home, made him feel... good.

…

Maria awaited them with dinner nearly done and the house impeccably clean. Only God knew how these women were capable of multi-tasking so spectacularly. Tending to the children, tidying the house, cooking, cleaning, keeping themselves informed of all the neighborhood gossip and watching all their Portuguese and Brazilian soap operas... And at the end of the day, looking nice and fresh, ready to go out on a date. It had only been a month since Maria met Anthony Michaelson, a well-off divorcee who owned an amusement park. That Dona Maria Alcantara was interested in paintball, rock climbing, rollercoasters and bungee jumping James had never suspected.

She left her specialty on the table, cod-fish with potatoes and _natas_, pearly white rice, salad, wine for him and freshly made passion-fruit juice for Olivia. She kissed both on the cheeks, fetched her purse and left with a bright red smile on her face.

Olivia just stared after her _avó_ and then at him, quizzically.

"Dinner and bath, love. Tomorrow's another day..." She nodded and he followed her into the bathroom to wash their hands.

…

Dinner passed and both Bonds decently scrubbed and dressed in their sleeping attire, they lay on James' large bed, on top of pristine, Egyptian cotton white blankets, as soft as clouds probably were, Olivia's head rested on his shoulder, watching yet another re-run of "Peppa Pig". As she began to close her eyes, he whispered sweet little nothings into her ear, snuggled even closer to her and enjoyed these priceless last hours of slumber before he'd return to "reality". He kissed her on the forehead and relished the scent of her lavender "Johnson's baby" shampoo... his heart already aching.


	2. The bad, bad day

James held Olivia tight against his chest, in a hurry to get to the nearest pharmacy. This morning had been like hell. Olivia had thrown a fit when she overheard James on the phone with Moneypenny, letting her know that tomorrow he'd be at headquarters, ready for the next mission... in Thailand. Unfortunately Olivia was fond of maps and knew very well that Thailand wasn't too far from China or Malaysia... she knew it would be far away and knew that once again he would be gone, indefinitely. All day she refused to play, eat, watch television, bathe or even drink water. And now here they were, Olivia was burning in fever and complaining of a headache and Maria was held up in Plymouth because of the rains.

At the pharmacy he restocked on paracetamol and tried to get he to eat some soup at the restaurant across the street, the medicine would do her no good if she hadn't anything in her. James cursed the heavens for giving him a daughter with an obstinacy as strong as his.

As he sat in front of her at the quaint little place called "The Lion's Den", staring at her sternly to see if she would budge, Olivia was able to hold her own ground.

"Olivia, you have to eat in order to take your medicine."

"No."

"You'll get worse... Olivia, eat."

"No. I don't wanna eat!" She shouted and James became embarrassed as the people around them turned to look.

James got up with a huff and threw the cloth napkin on the table.

"I'm going to the men's room and when I return I want you to have eaten at least half of your soup, understood?" Olivia glared at him intensely. If she weren't a girl, if she weren't his daughter and if she weren't just a child, God forbid, he would've already shot her.

He headed out and signaled for the waitress to keep an eye. She nodded wordlessly.

He entered the men's room and splashed some water on his face. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, the hardened expression, the creases on his forehead, the lines that only grew at the corner of his eyes. He was just so tired... he sighed and thought about this entire situation, the hell he'd gone through today. Give him a life-risking mission any day, mafia's to overcome, terrorists to fight. But Olivia as mad as she was at him, as disappointed as she felt—it was no use lying, he could see it in her big brown eyes—it frustrated him so much. For the first time ever since he returned to his work when Olivia was three months old he was witnessing the monster he had created. Never could he imagined the anger and pain that she felt when he came and left—the crushed hopes. Now he felt it under his skin, now he felt as if he himself was the world's greatest villain. He was the villain of her world. Maleficent.

He stared at his watch, seven minutes had past. He glanced one more time at his reflection and returned to their table.

Olivia sat there coloring with crayons on a paper the staff had given her. Everything was black and deep shades of green, violet and gray. This was how she felt, a cluster of angry and painful emotions. Darkness. Little girls should never feel like this.

"Olivia..." James whispered as he leaned next to her. She looked at him with a deep frown, knitted eyebrows and brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He sighed and embraced her, kissing her soft hair. Today had been their most difficult day yet.

The waitress shyly interrupted them and informed James that not only had Olivia eaten all of her soup but asked for more... James looked at his daughter who still with a frown on her face looked away, unhappy that she hadn't been able to resist. James set the money he owed on the tabletop and caressed Olivia's rosy cheek with the back of his hand.

"I won't apologize." She murmured, crossing her arms. James nodded, he probably was the one who needed to.

"That's fine. May we go home now then?" Olivia nodded chewing at her bottom lip and followed him out the door.

…

As he put her in bed that night, medicine given and a story read, James went down the stairs and sat in front of the lovely brick and iron fireplace that he started. He sat there for a long moment watching as it crackled and consumed the wood, the flames dancing around, their colors beautiful and enticing. He thought of how much pain he'd inadvertently caused his daughter. Or perhaps he did know of it all along, he himself had been put in her position as a child by his parents, but had never allowed himself to thoroughly think of it or address it. Some things are just easier if forgotten... he now fully recognized that every time he came and stayed with her, was her father, he replanted that little seed of hope in her heart and that every time he left he tore it away and left her shaken and distraught.

His phone rang. With a roll of the eyes he saw it was Moneypenny...

"Yes?"

"James—Mallory would like to meet you tomorrow before lunch, it's something about a former mission of yours, something has come up. This means you can have the morning free and from what it looks like, 004 has been sent to Asia in your place."

"I'll be working in London?"

"For the time being. Be at St. Elms restaurant at noon. Goodnight."

"Moneypenny?"

"Hmm?"

"It's... It's nothing. Goodnight." He hung up and threw his phone on top of the leather armchair next to him. "It's time for bed."

…

Maria wasn't due to arrive until 4 o'clock the next day, according to the message she'd sent him apologizing. So as he woke his daughter at six-thirty and set the toast and bowl of fruit salad in front of her James immediately informed her that he would be taking her to school today. Needless to say Olivia was ecstatic, she was one of those children who never missed a day of it, avid as she was for learning. James was extremely proud of this, already his daughter was the top of her class and possessed the largest number of golden stars... However, Olivia's academic efforts didn't keep her from being the most problematic.

The clock struck half-past seven and already they were running late. Olivia couldn't remember where she left her pouch of school supplies or the left side of her shoe. They ran around the house looking for this and that and James struggled to tie up her hair and button her navy cardigan. As they entered the car, James examined her looks and admired the St. Catherine's School emblem on her shirt, he strapped her in the back and the two were off.

Five minutes late and rushing towards the entrance they passed the security guard at the door, Mr. Linely and Olivia pulled James by the hand towards the west wing of the school where room k-b was. Mrs. Horowitz was at the door and greeted Olivia with a smile and pat on the head, inviting her to her seat. The graying woman turned to James and extended her hand.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet Olivia's father. I'm Elizabeth Horowitz." James shook her hand firmly.

"Bond, James Bond." The teacher nodded.

"I realize you travel a lot, Mr. Bond, so I would like to offer you an invitation, if you're able, to visit our school later this week for a meeting with myself, our headmistress and our guidance counselor Mr. Lowell, to get you better familiarized with your daughter's situation..."

"She's that bad?" James asked and Mrs. Horowitz's eyes went wide. With a hand on her face she nodded.

"Olivia's an outstanding student, Mr. Bond, but what worries us is her temperament and overall behavior." James nodded and sighed.

"Is tomorrow morning all right?" He questioned and Mrs. Horowitz smiled brightly, nodding.

"Perfect. Until tomorrow then, Mr. Bond."

"Yes. Goodbye." James sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. This would be one hell of a week.

…


End file.
